I was crazy starving. I’d skipped breakfast, ran around in circles with my hair on fire all morning (some people call it doing errands), and it was nearly 3pm. Mama gets cranky when she misses regular doses of fat and sugar. Thank God for the caffeine.
We were in the Kentlands and My Captain suggested we try Brasserie Beck, a relatively new Belgian restaurant here in Gaithersburg, Maryland. To be honest, I would have eaten anywhere at that point. I would have eaten anything. I’d have gnawed on My Captain’s arm if I could catch him.
We sat down on the lovely patio, and ordered drinks to celebrate…lunch! My Captain ordered a beer called Houblong Chouffe, which sounded dirty to me, frankly. It was described as a beer that had undertones of banana bread, apricot, and allspice. I gave him a concerned look. Surely a guy could have his mancard taken away for drinking beer with undertones of banana bread?
But he liked it well enough.
I had a sparking wine called Biutiful Cava, and was by far classier than Mr. Banana Bread Beer, sitting next to me, that’s for dingdang sure.
The appetizers came out, and the party in my mouth began! We started with a watermelon goat cheese salad. There were bits of onion, chive, and other savories mixed in with heirloom watermelon of pink and yellow. My tongue was like, “Ah! Summertime watermelon! Wait….Whaaaaa? Is that salty goat cheese? Holy Crap is that yummy!” And it said all of that in a bad French accent. Don’t ask me why; I’ve no idea.
And with that wonderful salad we ordered a small cheese plate, since I was feeling snooty and was drinking sparkling wine. I started lifting my pinky because it seemed apropos. And I used the word apropos because that is the kind of word someone who raises their pinky when they drink would do. See how consistent I am? Clearly I have blue blood somewhere mixed in with my horse-thieve ancestors.
Where was I? Right, cheese tray. I can’t remember the KINDS of cheese we ate..but I can tell you that between the Portugese and Italian goats/blues/swisses…mixed with the onion relish and quince preserve…I was in a new world of flavor. It was like my palate was Dorothy, and we’d left black and white Kansas and had entered high-def deluxe colorchrome Munchkin Land. What I’m saying is the cheese/preserve combos were all singing to me with their little flower hats, and high pitched voices. I had my ruby red slippers on (size 11, wide) and was ready to roll down that gastronomic yellow brick road.
THEN the main course came. I knew we were in for an adventure when My Captain was given a paddle in preparation for it.
Which is entirely different from being paddled. Though that would have been an adventure as well.
Why did he need a paddle? As a trivet for THIS:
He tried to get me to taste it, but, and please don’t hate me for this, I just can’t bring myself to eat mussels. I know, I know, you think less of me. But wait! I can make it up to you…I ordered the Croque Monsieur…
This was the most amazing open faced ham sandwich I’ve ever eaten in my life. The ham was Rosemary ham from Italy, the parsley crisp fried, and the béchamel sauce ladled on top of it was so delicate I wept. (Though to be honest, delicate or not, I could have drunk that stuff by the buckets. I’m no stranger to vulgar displays of overindulgence.)
Both of our entrees were served with French….er…Belgian fries (or Pommes Frites) and aioli sauces….garlic, vinegar, and red curry. I’ll never eat fries with ketchup again. (A blatant lie, but it sounds good.)
We saved some for My Captain’s lunch tomorrow at work, and also so we’d have room for dessert…because clearly we were going to need to try the sweets at this phenomenal restaurant. We started with the chocolate gateau…which to be fair should have just been called a mousse. It was rich….and I’m talking rich like Bill Gates rich…chocolate, on a Grand Marnier cream swath (again, I could have drunk a vat of that), with fresh raspberry sorbet scooped on top.
Look at that. Ay Carumba. And the taste? Well, here’s the action shot…NO ACTING!
Oh. Holy. Crap. I wept with joy. Creamy, chocolaty, orangey (which rhymes with nothing at all), raspberry-y…it was fabulous. How could they top that?
Gee, I don’t know, how’s about with a little Fresh Cherry Crème Brulee action….
complete with gold leaf garnish?
Look at that. Look At That! LOOK. AT. THAT. That, my loves, is cherry juice. Fresh beautiful, voluptuous cherry juice. This was by far my favorite dessert.
And I used the gold leaf to accessorize my redneck-pink cotton polyester Kmart blouse. Because that’s the way I roll. Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.
And lastly, our patient and kind waiter, Demetri, brought out the best coffee EVER..on a silver tray to go with my newly gold-plated tooth.
All I can say, friends, is that if you are in the area, you have…have…HAVE to try this place. It’s not dinner, it’s a freaking gastronomical adventure.
The one downside? We had to make some tough choices in order to pay our bill. Lunch for just the two of us came to over $100.00…which frankly we had not nearly planned on spending for a single meal. Firefighters can’t eat out like that AND pay for things like children’s clothing. So something had to go, and we’re sad to say at least one of our kids will have to go naked for a while. We can’t agree on which one it will have to be, though, so chances are it will be whichever one pisses us off next.
Any bets on who that might be?